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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27877141">Substitute</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arati_Mhevet/pseuds/Arati_Mhevet'>Arati_Mhevet</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Unrequited Love, death bed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:47:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,207</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27877141</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arati_Mhevet/pseuds/Arati_Mhevet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Who’ll be here for you, when your time comes?" During 'Ties of Blood and Water'.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Julian Bashir/Elim Garak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Substitute</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Substitute</strong>
</p><p>Set during ‘Ties of Blood and Water’.</p>
<hr/><p>“Well, Odo,” Garak said, coming warily into the constable’s office, “it’s a while since I’ve been summoned here to see you.”</p><p>“It’s a while since I’ve had to do any summoning.” Odo gestured to Garak to sit down. “I’m glad to say.”</p><p>Six months in a holding cell did rub off a few corners, Garak thought, as he took the offered seat. “So what am I supposed to have done?”</p><p>“Nothing, so far as I know. I’ve a favour to ask you.” Odo pushed a padd across the desk, which Garak reached to take. “Bajoran Intelligence’s report on Tekeny Ghemor. Normally I’d ask Nerys, but… Well, you’ll see.”</p><p>Garak read through the report. Most of the contents were familiar. A burned monastery and some dead monks. Well, how many times had that happened over the years? But only one occasion involved Tekeny Ghemor. Nineteen years of age. Probably what had made him the man he was now. Garak finished reading and put the padd back down on Odo’s desk. “What do you want to know?”</p><p>“Is it true?”</p><p>“Why do you ask me?”</p><p>“Garak…”</p><p>“Yes, it’s true.”</p><p>Odo sighed and retrieved the padd.</p><p>“The major isn’t going to be happy,” Garak observed.</p><p>“No,” said Odo, but he was clearly not going to be drawn further down that avenue of discussion. Garak saw no need to press and waited instead for the next question. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked to see Ghemor. Don't you want to?”</p><p>Garak snorted. “Why would I want to see Tekeny Ghemor? More pertinently, why would he want to see me?”</p><p>“You’re the only other Cardassian here. A fellow exile. He might like to see a friendly face.”</p><p>“He was a dissident, Odo. I was Obsidian Order. We were not friends. We were enemies.”</p><p>“You helped him escape Cardassia Prime. At considerable personal cost, I would guess.”</p><p>Rather late in the day, Garak thought, for people to be acknowledging how much that trip had cost him, but the chances were that Odo had always known. Anyway, that was a long time ago, and Garak too reserved the right not to be drawn into certain areas of discussion. “He has the major, doesn’t he? His ‘daughter’. Family is all.”</p><p>Odo’s eye fell on the padd. “For now.”</p><p>“Odo,” Garak said firmly, “I have no desire to speak to Tekeny Ghemor.”</p><p>Odo grunted. “Uncharacteristically restrained of you,” he said. “You usually can’t help but meddle. But I’ve noticed you’ve been keeping an unusually low profile throughout all this.”</p><p>“I’m busy,” said Garak, shortly. “That little excursion to the Gamma Quadrant with Commander Worf left me behind on commissions.” He caught Odo’s expression. “I do have a <em>job</em>, you know. And bills to pay—”</p><p>Odo pushed on further. “You know Dukat’s on the station?”</p><p>“Yes, I know.”</p><p>“With a Vorta.”</p><p>Garak, looking past Odo at the bulkhead, didn’t move a muscle. Under no circumstances did he want to attract the attention of the Dominion. They might ask for his extradition too, and Garak was not entirely convinced that Sisko would protect him.</p><p>“I wouldn’t let them take you, Garak,” said Odo, quietly. “If it did come to that.”</p><p>“Constable, the choice might not be yours.” Garak rose stiffly from the chair. “Is there anything else you needed from me?”</p><p>“Not today. Thank you.”</p><p>“Any time, Odo,” Garak said. He meant it, too. After all, he needed the goodwill.</p>
<hr/><p>Garak worked late that evening, and somewhat fruitlessly. He’d not been lying when he told Odo he was behind on work, but he was struggling to concentrate. His mind, for some reason, kept being pulled back to the thought of death beds, and, eventually, the quiet of the shop and the pain of the memories forced him to abandon his tasks and retreat to his quarters.</p><p>There, he replicated supper, and sat at the table, eating, while he worked, listlessly, through his files on Iliana Ghemor. He’d tried several times, over the years, to locate her, but if the Order at its height had been unable to pull off this miracle, there was very little that Garak could do by himself. Eventually, he gave up on this too. He stood in the middle of his quarters, staring at the walls, and made the considered decision that tonight, in lieu of any better offer, he was going to get comprehensively drunk.</p><p>He took a bottle of <em>teliskt </em>from the cupboard and poured himself a shot. He knocked this straight back, gratefully, feeling its warmth embrace him straight away. He took the bottle and the glass over to the couch, where he sat, eyes closed, one hand holding the glass, the other pressed up against his forehead.</p><p>Garak had never liked the deep cover programme. Too complicated; too many variables to control; too easy to lose people. And the whole idea depressed him. Not just the cruelty of the physical changes, but the terrible sense of uncertainty that hung over it all. Garak knew that on some level he feared something like this might have been done to him – by the Romulans, perhaps – and that one day he would learn that the deep love of Cardassia that was so foundational to him was nothing but the greatest lie of all. That would be a fine joke, no?</p><p>Garak took another shot. Sharp, raw liquor. That at least could not be faked, and two or three more should do the trick. He stretched out along the couch, and put his free hand across his eyes. <em>A fellow exile</em>. Garak snorted. Hardly comparable situations. Tekeny Ghemor had spent the past two years amongst the émigré community on the hospitable Mathenite homeworld. Garak was now well into his seventh year locked in a cold bright prison cell, length of sentence still as yet undisclosed…</p><p>Garak’s thoughts turned to Ghemor, in a biobed in the Infirmary. To Tain, on a cot in that grim barracks. And to himself, lying here in the dark. He kept drinking, steadily. At some point, he fell asleep, only to wake – suddenly –  and terrifyingly sure that someone else was in the room. <em>They’ve come for me at last</em>, was his first wild thought. <em>They’ve come to take me away… </em>He fumbled around for the phaser he always kept close, head fuzzy, furious with himself for such a foolish lapse, with his enemies close.</p><p>“Garak?” A voice whispered in the darkness; a familiar, beloved voice. </p><p>“Doctor?” </p><p>Bashir moved out of the shadows. Carefully, Garak sat up. Was this that better offer he'd been hoping for? “Well, doctor, this is a surprise!" he said, gamely. "More my style, wouldn’t you say? The pupil becomes the teacher…”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” said Bashir. “I tried the door several times, but got no answer.”</p><p>“I was asleep.” Garak saw Bashir’s eye glide towards the half-empty bottle on the floor. <em>Yes, </em>he thought, <em>drunk too</em>. <em>That’s permitted. </em>“What can I do for you tonight?”</p><p>“I need you to come and sit with Ghemor.”</p><p><em>Of course</em>, Garak thought bitterly. <em>Nothing for me. </em> “Why ever should I do that?”</p><p>“He’s alone—”</p><p>“Where’s the major?”</p><p>“She won’t go near him.”</p><p>So the news had broken. Poor Tekeny, surrounded by strangers, who did not understand that there were no innocent men. “I doubt he’ll want to see me.”</p><p>“Look, Garak, he’s dying. He’s hardly got any time left. I know how much this matters.”</p><p>Because he’d seen this before, and recently, with Tain. <em>Well, I did let you stay…</em></p><p>“You’re the only other Cardassian here,” said Bashir.</p><p>“People keep saying that to me,” Garak observed. As if he wasn’t already acutely aware. "It's not even true."</p><p>“Will you come?”</p><p>Slowly, Garak got to his feet. “Julian,” he said. “Of course I’ll come.”</p>
<hr/><p>Yarim Fel syndrome, thought Garak, studying the legate’s face, was not kind. Only two years since their last encounter. Ghemor had still been hale. Strong, active. It came to them all, in the end.</p><p>Garak sighed and shifted in his seat. The old man’s eyes flickered open, and, seeing who was there, some of the old fire returned. “You,” he muttered. “Why are <em>you</em> here?”</p><p>“Because the major needed to rest.”</p><p>“Liar.”</p><p>“I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”</p><p>“And in the meantime, I have to suffer you?”</p><p>“A poor substitute, I admit, but the only one on offer. Unless you’d prefer Dukat?”</p><p>“If you think you’re going to get my secrets, Garak, you’re sorely mistaken.”</p><p>“I don’t want your secrets. Those are for you and Major Kira. Besides, I’ve heard <em>shri’tal</em> once already this year and I don’t particularly want to hear it again.”</p><p>The legate’s lips curled into a smile. “Of course… Do you know, when the news reached us all out there in Mathenite space, we celebrated? We opened a bottle of <em>teliskt</em> and drank to the death of Tain and the death of the Order. I hope he suffered. I hope it was painful.”</p><p><em>It was agony</em>, thought Garak. Quietly, he said, “I’m not here to quarrel with you.”</p><p>“Then why are you here?”</p><p>“I’m here… in case there was anything you wanted.”</p><p>“From you?”</p><p>“You never know.”</p><p>Ghemor’s eyes closed again. His breathing was shallow, ragged. Garak knew pain when he saw it and he hoped Ghemor would sleep. But no, stubborn old lizard, he licked his lips, and said, “Tell me about my daughter.”</p><p>“Your daughter?” Garak looked at him in surprise. “Why do you think I know anything?”</p><p>“Because you were the Order. You and Tain.”</p><p>“I…”</p><p>“Tell me something, liar!”</p><p>Garak nodded. Yes, there was something he could do for this man after all. Gathering his thoughts, not easy through the lingering haze of the liquor, he said, “Once there was a girl who loved Cardassia so much that she would do anything, make any sacrifice, as long it kept Cardassia safe. And she so decided, for the love of Cardassia, that she would change everything about her, and go far away, and forget everything she knew and loved best.”</p><p>Ghemor’s eyes were wet. “Carry on.”</p><p>“There were people who… helped her do this. Who knew where she was. All along, they knew. They watched her, looked over her. And a day came, when they thought that Cardassia would be best served by bringing her back. But when they went to get her, they found she was gone. Oh, not in body. But in mind. Their training had been too good. Too thorough. And when that happens, well… forcing them back is no good. It destroys them completely. And… these people were not entirely cruel. So they left her. Left her to the new life. Left her to be happy, if she could.”</p><p>“Happy…” said Ghemor.  </p><p>“And perhaps she was. Perhaps she found love, perhaps there was even a child…. Who knows? Those people are all gone now, legate, and I am in no position to say.”  </p><p>The tears were running freely now down the old man’s face. He lifted his hand, and Garak clasped it within his own. “Thank you,” rasped Ghemor. “Thank you.”</p><p><em>Oh, Tekeny, what for? A sentimental lie? I only wish I had more to give you..</em>.</p><p>They sat for a while like that, two lost men far from home. Ghemor drifted in and out of sleep. It would not, Garak thought, be long now. He hoped the major would hurry.</p><p>And then, Ghemor’s eyes opened. He looked straight at him, and said, “Garak.”</p><p>“Yes, legate?”</p><p>“Who’ll be here for you, do you think – when your time comes?”</p><p>
  <em>And I am supposed to be the torturer… </em>
</p><p>“Oh, if I live long enough to die in bed,” said Garak, his voice coming out lighter than he felt, “I’ll count it a victory.” Suddenly, his head felt heavy – the drink, he supposed, and the interrupted sleep – and he let it fall onto his chest. Oh, but how this truth hurt! Even Tain had someone at his side, but then Tain always got what he wanted. But who would come for him? Who would hold his hand and hear his secrets?</p><p>“I don’t believe that,” said Ghemor, robustly for one so close to the end. “You’ll be the last man standing.”</p><p>Which was meant to be a comfort, Garak knew, but in fact was so close to being his greatest fear that sometimes he thought the weight of that might crush him. “Don’t worry about me. Something always turns up.”</p><p>Garak caught the sound of people moving outside. Soon, he thought, his presence would no longer be required. He laid his hand upon the old man’s head. “I have to go now, Tekeny.”</p><p>“Everything I did, you know,” Ghemor said, quiet and plaintive, “was for Cardassia.”</p><p>He stroked the white hair. “She knows. Cardassia knows.”  </p><p>
  <em>Cardassia always knows… </em>
</p><p>“I hope you see her again,” whispered Ghemor. “I hope you get to sit again beneath her sun. I hope her warmth embraces you. I hope you live that long…”</p><p>Ghemor’s eyes closed. “Thank you,” Garak whispered back. Beyond the door, the doctor was speaking, and the major. “Legate,” said the Order, “your daughter’s here.”</p><p>A soft smile spread across Ghemor’s lips. Garak withdrew – and slipped off alone, into the night.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>4<sup>th</sup> December 2020</em>
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